Compulsive Scribblings
by toastsoldiers
Summary: A series of different perspectives in drabbles. Warnings in each chapter, read with discretion.
1. Thunder: Sounds of Silence

**Prompt: **Thunder  
**Word Count: **279

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**Sounds of Silence**

There was no flash of light announcing the deafening roar that rang through the sky, reminiscent of a lion's roar.

It was like the beating of war drums that went out of sync, though it was too late. There was no war, not now. Perhaps instead of announcing war, these drums announced the end. The battle had finally been won. After the suffering and blood, everything was over. Almost.

He wondered if the sky knew, and then laughed. But the sound that bubbled out of him was not familiar; it was dry, and cold … and desperate. The quiet sound carried over the entirety of the battle field. Of course the sky knew, because it let out another cry, almost as if it was crying out in pain and agony – in despair of losing one of its children. It must have known that two of magic's most blessed and beloved children had faced off this day, and only one of them had come out alive.

And then it sounded again, this time longer, softer, but still oh so powerful. Like the clapping of a thousand hands. Yes, perhaps it was better that the fallen child had finally been put out of his misery, of his half-life. Was the sky congratulating him on surviving, on freeing another?

The sounds faded, the sky stilled.

He closed his eyes. Here, where all the world was quiet, he found himself alone to come to peace with things.

_Quietly in the background, real clapping began. People whooped and cheered, and all the while, Harry Potter remained silent, still hearing the thunder, the roaring, the war drums, the clapping, and the sounds of silence._


	2. Parallel: A Path, A Road

**Prompt: **Parallel  
**Word Count: **468

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**A Path, A Road**

World, o world. O beautiful, unforgiving world. Why hast thou done this to I? Have I not been thy faithful servant, thy humble servant? O world, o cruel, cruel world, will thou not release me from mine binds?

You have laid your rules at my feet, and demanded that I follow them. You threw at me your expectations, and declared that I would live by them. You handed me my duty, and told me what I must become.

You believe me to be naïve, and thus I am. You wished for me to be reckless, and thus I became. You asked that my morals be your own, and thus my conscience was born.

You strung me along with faceless prophecies, and I followed the bread-crumb trail you left. Yet when I turned to go back to my beginning, the trail behind me had already been swallowed by the scavengers that stalk me. I try to stray off that course, all grotesquely laid out for me, but figures jump out from shadow and herd me back in line.

I walk, but no others follow this path. Is there no one else in this world that understands the misgivings of life? I wait and wait, but I cross paths with no others.

_World, o ugly world. If I looked at thee through rose-stained glass, would thee be more beautiful? Would thee look a bit less cruel, a bit less full of woe? Ne'r had I wanted this life. These heavy days are wrought with despair, and do seem to go on to the morrow. Anon, anon, I wait mine own redemption._

_This fickle word called fate I do not believe in, but circumstance I do believe. Circumstance that lays out my duty, it is by circumstance that life seems cruel._

_This life of mine, no other follows. It seems as if I am the only to carry this heavy weight called burden. Each night I sleep, and each night they haunt. _

_This road I take seems to have no end, nor beginning. It has no length, no width, no dimension at all. I walk and walk, and yet there seems to be no stop. This redemption that I seek lies somewhere along this road. I seek for my salvation, but nothing comes. I kneel, and pave the road with my own hands. _

_I walk, but no others follow this road. Is there no one else in this world that understands the misgivings of life? I wait and wait, but I cross paths with no others. _

**Two sets of eyes closed. One seeks for peace, the other for salvation. If only, if only, they would open their eyes and see the world at broad, and not look with such narrow-mindedness. They see each other not, as parallel lives never can cross. **


	3. Snow: Regret of Waiting

**Prompt:** Snow  
**Words:** 334

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**Regret of Waiting**

Crystal flakes drifted – sometimes slowly, sometimes swirling rapidly in a blizzard of ice.

Albus shivered, and Gellert pulled him closer to his body, whispering something so softly that Albus had closed his eyes to feel the words.

They were standing on a vast plane of snow – a mountain side high up, overlooking the rest of the world. Snow whirled around them, and Gellert cupped his hands as if to catch some. He looked so innocent then that Albus could not help but stare. No burdens weighed their shoulders here. This place was their retreat, their sanctuary.

And even as they threw snowballs at each other, Albus could see every moment and every single detail right down to the last snowflake in his mind. Years later, he would look back upon it, and compare it with another memory.

_Snow surrounded them, soft white flakes falling and swirling. The place of childhood delights seemed to have adopted a menacing look. Gellert stood, and Albus could see a shadow of the boy he used to be standing in his place. He cried that day, as he took down the man he loved and then locked him up, away from the world._

_He regretted, always, that he had never confessed to Gellert. One day, a snowy day, perhaps when he knows his time is ending, Albus will go and tell him. He will sit and tell the stories of his emotions, and how it all started with snow. He will sit as Gellert stares at him in silence, and when he gets up to leave, he will listen as Gellert says softly, "I always thought you came as pure as the driven snow. I wanted to be first to add the touch of darkness."_

_Albus would leave, and in his dying moments, he would see Gellert again in his mind, and he will regret having waited so long._


	4. Rain: Lifetime of Memories

**Prompt:** Rain  
**Words:** 307

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**Lifetime of Memories**

Hermione Granger always did like the rain. She loved the way it sounded.

_Splish._

Loved the concept of studying it. The way it seemed so much more different than other concrete logics.

_Sploosh._

She found herself identifying with the clouds. She knew what it felt like, to hold on to something until you couldn't hold it anymore, and still keep on trying.

_Pitter patter_.

She knew what if felt like to depend on something else entirely for your existence.

_Drip._

She loved the way the rain felt, as she stood underneath the sky. Although she never understood why people used the rain to hide their tears or why people personified sadness as rain or rain as sadness.

_Drop_.

Until the final moment came, when possibly everyone in the world had bowed their heads and spent hours of silence contemplating and thanking Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley for their great deeds.

_Swish_.

It rained the day they both died, and Hermione found herself as the last of three. She tilted her head back, and cried. And it felt so much better, knowing that the sky was crying with her.

_Splash._

She should've known she would outlive them both, with their reckless ways. Now she had to stand strong, as the rest of the world looked on at her in pity. But it was okay, because they had shared an entire lifetime of memories together, and those memories would sustain her until it was her time to go. She wished, with great longing, that the last thing she saw would be the rain.


	5. Swings: Something We Shared

**Prompt: **Swings  
**Words:** 514

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**Something We Shared**

It was many, many years later when Harry Potter finally step foot into Hogwarts again. On that day he stepped into the Headmaster's office only to find it changed – the silver trinkets from Dumbledore's days gone, the mess from the day of the war gone. Still, the nostalgic air lingered, and he took several deep breaths before facing the portraits in the back. The all stared at him, and one in the back would whisper softly, "Welcome back, my boy."

But he kept his eyes only on one particular portrait; one with onyx orbs a familiar sneer. He stood in front of it, head bowed, before beginning his story.

"When I viewed the memories you gave me, I realized that you had given me one of the most precious gifts anyone had ever gotten me. And … I returned today because I thought that you would like to know something. Of course, feel free to call me an attention-seeking brat afterwards."

He made an aborted movement to reach out, but instead shuffled forward clumsily.

_There was an old swing set at the park that creaked with every movement. The chains were covered in rust and the seats discolored, and other kids avoided it. Harry, however, sought it out as his reprieve, even though Dudley had pushed him violently several times and caused him to fall._

_One day, when Dudley had gotten bored and walked away, Harry tried to see how high he could go. He kicked his legs, watching as the sky grew closer and closer each time, and then he slipped. Fear gripped him as he fell, but he was not falling quickly. It was a slow decent as he reached the ground and gently touched down. His eyes widened, staring at his feet in disbelief. And then Dudley ruined the moment, calling him a freak before running off the tell his parents. Harry had to wonder if Dudley had been spying on him the entire time._

_But at that moment he did not care about the punishment he would receive upon his return home. He wanted answers, so he scrambled back to the swings, getting closer to the sky once more, and then jumped._

_No pain._

_He tried again, and again._

_No answers came._

Harry licked his lips before looking up, raising a hand to gently touch the portrait. "If I had someone like you, someone who could explain to me what I was doing, I think I would have greatly appreciated it. I envy my mother, professor – _Headmaster_ – for the fact that she had a friend like you to help her through everything."

And Severus Snape nodded, just a slight movement of the head, and Harry smiled back before turning to leave.

He walked down the steps, past the gargoyle, and knew that he had just cemented something entirely new.


	6. Hail: Hail the World

**Prompt: **Hail  
**Words: **319

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**Hail the World**

She had always wanted to see the sky hail. Always. Just the thought of it made her sit and wonder for hours on end what an amazing sight it would be.

There was once a time when she stared at the sky during a cloudless summer day. She stared and stared for hours, and when asked by her father what she was looking at, she told him, "I'm waiting for the sky to hail."

He laughed, slung an arm around her shoulder, and told her the sky couldn't hail right now because the Fleathered Drovies were flying too high and disturbing the clouds and wind. She had nodded, thinking that she should have realized that sooner.

Once, during a fall evening, she was laying on the grass. A woman came by, leaning over and asking her if she was alright. She had frowned, telling the woman that she was blocking her sight, and that if the sky hailed she wouldn't be able to see it. The woman laughed, but not the way her father did. It sounded crueler, much, much crueler.

As she grew older, she finally understood the misunderstanding. "Hail" was ice that came from the sky. The sky did not hail the way people hailed kings or queens, everyone said. She never believed them, and often she finds herself looking at the sky, waiting for it to hail.

She had known when Harry Potter died for the first time in the Final Battle. The sky hailed, and it was a sight not many could see unless they _looked_. She took that as a signal for the death and rebirth of Harry Potter. She smiled, and turned around, preparing herself for next wave of attackers.

She always did like Harry Potter, wonderful things happened when you were close to him.

The sky had hailed Harry Potter, now all hail the world and magic, all hail victory.


	7. Change: Forgive Me, I Trespassed

**Prompt:** Change  
**Words:** 338

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**Forgive Me, I Trespassed**

Sometimes, if he thought carefully enough, he might catch the emotions that ran through him back then. Sometimes he might catch a ghost of what he was thinking.

Perhaps back then he had truly loved his friends. Perhaps he went into the mouth of the serpent with only the idea of protecting his friends. Perhaps he had this foolish thought of bravery in his mind. Perhaps, but that was back then.

He didn't know when those thoughts had warped, or when intentions turned dark, but he knew there must have been a catalyst – not a quick one, but one that acted like a slow poison.

The Dark Lord drilled ideals into his brain, told him about the glory awaiting them, about the grand future they – the Death Eaters – would help him pave.

He remembered being skeptical at first, remembered scoffing at those ideals afterwards, and sometimes he wondered how his mind was swayed so easily.

There was a pain within him as he realized he had betrayed his friends, pain as he realized he killed and condemned them. It did not matter, not anymore. Being within the dark as far as he was caused you not to see. He would look, but there would only be blackness; no blood here, no blood there.

So many years passed, and then little Harry came along. Little baby Harry James who had his father's face and mother's eyes. And then that little boy went and saved his life. So it was no wonder that after that he doubted every step he made, every movement, every thought that crossed his mind.

And years later, he found himself unwilling to completely hurt that innocent boy. He knew the consequences of his actions, knew that by helping Harry Potter he would be sentencing himself to death. As the silver hand strangled his life, he thought back and wondered if he'd join his friends once more, and if they'd still be as forgiving as they were in life during their Hogwarts days.


	8. Teach: World, Teach My Son

**Prompt:** Teach  
**Words:** 461  
**Notes:** Lily Evan's version of Abraham Lincoln's _World, My Son Starts School Today! _

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**World, Teach My Son**

World, take my son by the hand – everything he ever knew has crumbled to ashes today.

It is all going to be harsh for him for a while, and I wish you would treat him gently. You see, now he will be neglected, ignored and hated by my sister. I had always treated him kindly, always soothed his tears.

But now things are going to be different. From this day on my son will walk on his own, no one to lean on during his early days of life. He will start a new adventure – a grand one, likely filled with war and tragedy and sorrow.

To live in this world requires great courage, to live the way he will have to – loveless – will require great faith. So, World, I wish you would take him by his fragile hand and teach him things he must know, and keep from him things that he does not need.

Teach him – but gently, kindly, if you can.

I know he will have to learn that all men are not just or true, that some men are of a great evil. Teach him that there are great men, and that great men can be both good and evil.

Let him learn in early encounters that those who insult are those whose wills are weak.

Give him moments of peace to wonder at the eternal mysteries of magic.

Teach him the bravery of Gryffindors, ambition of Slytherins, intelligence of Ravenclaws, and loyalty of Hufflepuffs. Teach him to believe in himself, even if all others turn away and shun him.

Try to give him strength to face the crowd that moves in the opposite way. Teach him to listen, even if he sometimes does not hear – but filter all he hears on a screen of truth, and know that all the good that comes through is sometimes not always found.

Teach him to be his bravest and proudest, but to never be something he is not, to never reject something that is a part of him.

Teach him gently, World, but do not coddle him, because only the test of fire makes fine steel.

This is a big order, World, but see what you can do. See what you can do for a boy with such a great, long path ahead of him. See what you can do for a boy who must live in two worlds, each so different from the other.

I leave him in your fine hands, and will watch him when I can, but I ask that you guide him as he makes his own path, even if it strays from the one drawn.

He is such a sweet little boy, and the only one I have.


	9. History: The Two of Them

**Prompt: **History  
**Words:** 202

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**The Two of Them**

Igraine, mother of Arthur Pendragon, who had bedded another man who assumed her husband's visage by use of magic. The son born of that union became Great King to his people.

Lily Evans, mother of Harry Potter, who had married a man that she hated throughout her school years. Their son would be savior to all people magic.

Gorlois, husband of Igraine, who had been killed the night his wife laid with another man. Gorlois, who was so kind to a woman and allowed her requests in an age where men were superior to women.

Severus Snape, best friend to Lily Evans, who had loved her all his life, and no other. Severus, who had spent a lifetime damned, regretting a single moment.

History repeats, but with variations. Lily Evans did not become another Igraine. No, Igraine was without love - bound and chained to her destiny. Lily Evans loved with great capacity - tied not to a variable future.

And what of the children birthed to them? The similarities are endless, but so are the differences. King Arthur of Camelot and Harry Potter, Savior to the Wizarding World.


	10. Title: Boy Who Lived

**Prompt: **Titles  
**Words: **295

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**Boy-Who-Lived**

They called him the Boy-Who-Lived. It was a cruel name that reminded him time and time again that he had _lived._ He wasn't stupid. He knew without them telling him at every opportunity that he had lived.

Moreover, he wondered if they were being deliberately cruel. Did they know how it felt to be reminded again and again that you had lived while others around you died?

He had lived – his parents hadn't. They had died while he didn't. Why was it that he couldn't have followed them? Why did he have to be condemned with the knowledge that he should have followed them, but didn't? They had given their lives in place of his – and who ever had titled him as the one who lived must have had an unnecessarily cruel, unimaginative character.

That name followed him. "The Boy-Who-Lived." And as the years went by it grasped another level of cruelty.

Cedric Diggory – a classmate, a friend … someone who had died facing the same circumstance as him. Unsurprisingly, Harry had lived. Again.

And then Sirius had fallen through the veil at the Department of Mysteries, and he could not follow – was not allowed to follow. After all, he had been named as the one who lived; death was no longer an option.

The war came and went, and Harry's name was never tacked on to the list of casualties.

These days, as he watches the days fly by and by, he wishes that he had never been given that horrid name – these days, he cannot die until all those who remember he was ever called by that name pass away.


	11. Tired: I Persevere

**Prompt:** Tired  
**Words:** 100

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**I Persevere**

He was tired. So tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of the guilt, tired of everything.

His mind weighed down his body, and the back of his eyes ached. His nose was stuffy, and each breath made it sting. Endless coughs raked his throat, and his muscles were strained.

He swallowed, and felt the pressure in his ears disperse, only to reform again.

He was so tired, but he must keep going. Just a little bit further. He was so close to his goal.

Sirius Black surged onwards, in search of his godson, and ignored his own pain.


	12. Green: A Colored Thought

**Prompt: **Green  
**Words: **165

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**A Colored Thought**

He never understood why the Killing Curse was green, or why envy and jealously were colored green. To him, green was life. The color of the trees, grass, of nature. Where ever you looked the color green existed in the vastness of nature's world.

And _her_ eyes were also green. They were so vibrant, so full of life. All of her emotions shone through, all tinted green. And yet he rarely saw any ugly emotions. Her eyes were green, and she felt only the purest things.

He had never, as a child, expected the Killing Curse to be green. He expected the thing to be colorless, as it had seem fitting in his child's mind that something that offered merciful death should not favor a color within the spectrum.

The color green haunted him, even years and years later. It was the last thing he saw, the green of Lily Evan's eyes.

Green; the color life, the color of death. The color … of love.


	13. Transform: The Fine Line

**Prompt: **Transform  
**Words:** 156

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**The Fine Line**

It was unknown to him when he first fell for those eyes, or when that voice walked from his nightmares into his fantasies.

He did not know when his hate began to ebb away, or when longing replaced it.

The face that used to be the stuff of his fears turned into the stuff of his desires.

And when they were face to face on the battlefield, he begged and pleaded for the man he loved to find remorse. The green light that hit him may not have killed him, but it had shattered his heart.

He cried inside as the Wizarding World cheered him on, not knowing that he had killed the man he grew to love.

If anyone were to find out, he knew that they would call him sick, so he went on through the years, holding the love silently to his heart, and in dreams … he would imagine they'd be together.


	14. Symmetry: I Spy My Twin

**Prompt: **Symmetry  
**Words: **214

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**I Spy My Twin**

Who is that I spy? He sits across of me, and in the cool of the afternoon breeze his hair shifts and shines under the life-giving sun. I try to camouflage my heart, but his eyes pierce through the armor-disguise, and he sees me as I am.

He brushes away the moss covering this thing untouched, and no longer is my heart pine-needled in defense.

His pale arms are long, like mine, but he holds none of the awkward movements that I make. His face is smooth with dustings of pretty colored freckles, while mine are blotchy and painfully stand out.

He is like me, and yet not like me. The two of us were given the same things, and yet he wielded his gifts with much more capability than I.

He is me, and I am him. We are identical, and yet opposites. His touch of love holds a kind of softness, and I know that my touches are rough.

Oh, the grass is wet with dew, and the bark on the tree is bumpy, but I do not mind so much, as I spy him lowering me so kindly down.


	15. Truth: Through Me, Tell the Story

**Prompt: **Truth  
**Words: **602

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**Through Me, Tell the Story**

As he fell through, he could feel the hands of his spirit reach out to grip onto the thin mist. But mist is just mist, and he faded and faded and faded. And his world, too, faded.

And in the new realm of colors and no colors, shapes and no shapes, living and unliving, he heard a voice call out, "What sins have you committed?"

Opening his mouth he made to answer and deny, but a force gripped him and shook him over and bade the truth speak through him.

"You ask what of my sins, and I tell you that I have no sins because I follow no god who lays down humanity's laws and governs us with his."

The voice boomed again, and it echoed and did not echo. "You think yourself clever? I ask of you, have you done nothing to bring forth guilt in your soul?"

"The dead feel no guilt, but as I am not dead – at least not to my knowledge – then I do feel guilt."

But the voice was not satisfied.

"A child of man, you are. The magic born with you is gone, and there is no shield here for you to cower behind. I ask you, tell me what wrongs, what unjust, what mistakes have you committed?"

He felt the need to shiver and tremble at the mighty power of the voice, but the force that overcame him was still there, and the weird truth continued to speak through him.

"Who are you to ask this of me? If I tell you, will you seek to pass your superficial judgment upon me?"

A gust of wind blew at him, and the dark-undark world resonated with white light for a moment.

"You have trespassed upon my realm, and it is my right to demand anything I wish from you!"

An anger clawed at him, and he felt the fear become shadowed by the new feeling. "Right?! You wish to speak to me about _rights?!_ Then it is my right as a sentient being that no other can command me, my right as someone who breathed the earth's air that I live, it is my right to live – my right to be judged fairly, my right to finish my life as I see best!"

And the booming voice laughed. "Child of man, you speak only what your heart bade you to speak and you do not grovel for your life. I declare now that you are able to pass on through if it is your choosing. Be warned, I cannot let you pass until your destiny has been fulfilled."

He felt confusion, and asked: "What is this strange turn?"

"I exist as one. I exist in times past, in times that have yet to come, and I exist now. All of me is one, and so I know all of me. Humans that have passed through this realm shrivel and beg for their life back, and yet you dared to speak out against me. I am the one who decides at this crossroad which path you shall be led to."

And so he waited in the after-life that is still during-life until the day came when his soul was called upon by a familiar boy who sought his wisdom. The sight of shapes and colors once more faded, and the booming voice bade him to choose his road. He smiled, and said he'd take the road that has been treaded on softly by gentler people who understood the things of life.


	16. Savior: To Save a Savior

**Prompt: **Savior  
**Words: **240

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**To Save a Savior**

As a child she idolized him, a boy who felled the Dark Lord before he was even old enough to hold a wand. She pitied him, a boy who lost a mother and father that very same night and had no one else left in the world.

As a young girl, she admired his bravery and courage and kindness. But when she attended Hogwarts and saw him on a daily basis, she saw something no one else did. He was lost. He did not know how to love, and only knew that he wanted it. He did not know what his purpose was, other than to defeat Voldemort. When he saved her from the basilisk in her first year, she vowed to save him in return.

She became someone he could love. She transformed, making sure that if he ever chose her, he would not be ashamed of her.

As a woman, she stood by his side as his wife, for all her heart loving the boy turned man. And even if he did not, could not, love her, she pretended he did – and that was all she needed. She saved the lost boy that saved her, and gave him purpose in life. Others may scorn her, but they didn't know the truth of it all.

Through it all, Harry Potter remained lost and without direction in life, but Ginny Weasley did her best to give him purpose and peace.


	17. Want: In Want of Things Lost

**Prompt: **Want  
**Words: **100

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**In Want of Things Lost**

In want of the world, a savior was lost.

In want of a savior, a boy was lost.

In want of a boy, a childhood was lost.

In want of a childhood, the world was lost.

These things go in a circle – ashes to ashes, dust to dust. For the wizarding world, we trained a savior. For the savior to be trained, we took a boy. For the boy, we took his childhood. For want of his childhood back, the boy took the world in vengeance.

And all over again, another savior is trained, another boy lost, another childhood gone.


	18. Paradise: Paradayadam

**Prompt: **Paradise  
**Words: **100

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**Paradayadam**

Is the wizarding world a paradise? A world so closed off could not be such a thing with its war and strife and suffering.

And yet there are those who insist their world is perfect, and call it a paradise without knowing a thing.

The word _paradise_ came from the word _paradayadam._

It does not mean the final abode of heaven, or even a place of extreme beauty or happiness.

The true and original definition of_ paradayadam_ is something else entirely.

_Paradayadam_, a walled enclosure.

Perhaps such a word is fitting of a world stagnant in the flow of time.


	19. Wind: On the Different Kinds of Wind

**Prompt: **Wind  
**Words: **300

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**On the Different Kinds of Wind**

Oh, what he'd give to feel the wind on his cheek, to taste the breeze that kissed the sea. He smiled wryly: but alas, he cannot miss what he never has felt, and ne'r had he tasted the sea-kissed breeze – but oh, did he want to.

He wished to feel the wind tickling his hair, to feel the free air, to breathe in grass-tainted scents.

Despair! He spent these days locked and keyed. His world was called dark, and no sun existed 'cept for the one artificial square of light that sometimes shone through. Not a draft or breeze was there to be felt in this little world of his.

And once, every now and then, the light would shine brighter through, filling out its square. He'd be let free, and yet the fate that awaited him seemed worse than that dark world of his filled with things unknown.

Put to work by those who were called his family, he had no time to stop and stare at the green world. The wind he feels is not comforting, but rather harsh on his worn and tired body, threatening to topple him. One day, he swore, he would feel the sea breeze.

And that day came, but not the way he wanted it to. Perched atop a rock, the waves crashing and singing. A frail old man next to him, the fear swallowing him. Here the breeze was of the sea, but here the world had changed and spun in the opposite way. All he knew was dread, all he knew was that death was near. The sea breeze was not as wondrous as imagined, nor as calming as he thought.

Still, he remembered with small gladness – the wind of the Quidditch pitch was brushed with the scents of clean grass.


	20. Discard: Another One

**Prompt:** Discard  
**Words:** 100

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**Another One**

She was just another Muggleborn that cast away her magic and lived out her life as a Muggle.

They shunned her and hated her for stealing their lifestyle, for taking their secrets and giving nothing in return but scorn and criticism. They mocked her because she mocked them and their ways.

She took everything they had and crumbled it into her mind. Then she left, and turned her back on the world she stole from. Muggleborn, they whispered spitefully. She took from them, gleamed at their knowledge and wisdom, and then left that world behind as if it never existed.


	21. Memories: Left Undone and Done

**Prompt:** Memories  
**Words:** 175

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**Left Undone and Done**

He lay there, dying. So many things left undone that should have been done. So many things he should have said but never did. He was going to leave this world without having finished everything he needed to do. His goals were unfinished, his work left incomplete, his sins still not repented for.

Death was closing her hands on him, greedily pulling all the warmth from his body, the strength from his soul, and he knew that if he wanted to leave behind a trail not ill-liked he must act now.

The memories escaped from him – through his mouth, from his ears, bled from his eyes like tears. All the once vivid scenes dulled and dulled, and he felt a sense of panic, knowing that the green of Lily Evan's eyes was fast fading.

"Look at me," he rasped, feeling the desperation rise. The boy – he had her eyes. "Look at me," he begged again, and the boy turned to him, and Severus Snape felt the green of Lily Evan's eyes sharpen in his mind.


	22. Time: The Name Gave it Away

**Prompt:** Time  
**Words:** 250  
**Notes:** Exploration of the strange behaviors of Sirius Black, may be expanded later. (In which Sirius lives through time differently from everyone else.)

* * *

**The Name Gave it Away**

Remus confronts Sirius one day, cornering him in a dark hallway. They stand like that, with Sirius against the wall and Remus just _staring_ because he isn't sure what to say.

In the end, it finally comes out as, "You called Harry James, and other names that belonged to James."

Then Sirius panics and his eyes widen, but then he is visibly calming himself down. "It was an honest mistake, really. I mean, he does look like his father after all," he says, and it comes out with nervous laughter.

"Exactly – and James also looks like Harry, doesn't he?" the werewolf whispers. "How could I have not seen it? All those years ago when you called James Harry, or made jokes none of us understood – Merlin, Sirius, what is going on?!" he sounds desperate and pleading, but the other just looks away.

It was later, much later – just after Sirius' death – that Remus eventually understood, and wondered how any man could live in a split timeline.

He gets only one chance to speak to Harry because the times are dangerous and it's not often that the boy is alone, so he says, gently, "I know what Sirius called you … and you must forgive him for that. Your father did, eventually – and that's why he named you Harry."

When Remus dies, there's no one to explain his last words to Harry, and he's left wondering and wondering what the words could mean, and he'll never know what his godfather suffered.


	23. Expected: Albus Severus

**Prompt:** Expected  
**Words: **100

* * *

**Albus Severus **

Albus Severus Potter, named after two dead men whose life had been one mistake, one regret, one guilt after the other. Therefore, it is no surprise to anyone when he falls in love with when the next rising evil, when his family turns up lifeless.

No one bats an eyelash when he preaches the greater good and tries to convince them that the end justifies the means.

It is expected, not at all unusual, when he becomes the next hero, upheld as a martyr of freedom, survivor of wars.

Poor little Albus Severus. Who would've thought that he'd off himself?


End file.
